


We Who Found Home

by just_quintessentially_me



Series: We Who Found Home [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Fast Cars, Levi's POV, Mad Max AU, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Thriller, literally everyone is a bamf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_quintessentially_me/pseuds/just_quintessentially_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chain dragged Hanji’s vehicle mercilessly forward. The armored car to which it was attached showed no signs of stopping.</p><p>He looked forward again. The edge was visible. It was lined with rough and ragged rocks. She had to get out. </p><p>Leaning out, he extended his hand. “Hanji!”</p><p>Abandoning her tenuous grip on the wheel, Hanji crawled across the seat. She reached out.</p><p>Their fingers brushed.</p><p>The chain groaned.</p><p>Behind her, the Wistvern car spun, losing traction on the thinning sand. Beneath those dirty goggles, he could see brown eyes. For a fraction of a second, he saw nothing else. And then her car jerked back, caught up with the Wistvern car sliding over the edge.</p><p>His fingers closed over empty air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a Secret Santa Gift for the-hunter-eren on tumblr. I watched Mad Max for the first time after they requested I write a Mad Max AU....and I LOVED it.
> 
> Needless to say this AU got out of hand in the best possible way. 
> 
> Though having seen Mad Max will probably enhance the read, you definitely don't have to have seen it to enjoy this :)

 

 _He who has tried it knows_  
How cruel is  
Sorrow as a companion  
To the one who has few  
Beloved friends:  
The path of exile holds him,  
Not at all twisted gold.  
\- The Wanderer

* * *

He had sand in his mouth.

The coarse grains grated against his gums, and spread, a fine layer of grit over his tongue. He clenched his jaw, wrenching the wheel to the right. Dry granules scraped and cracked between his teeth. There was no time to rinse his mouth. Not when they were being pursued.

Pursuit wasn’t unusual. Not for them. They, who lived the life of nomads. Ever crossing the sand. They never stayed in one place for long. Because they’d yet to find it – the object of their all searching. A place of their own.

They searched, they fought, they fled. And they would continue to do so until they found the place where the earth could be made to sustain them. A home.

Dragging his sleeve over his mouth, Levi rubbed at the sand caking his lips. It fluttered down. Gold grains caught the light. 

Without warning, his car jerked suddenly and violently to the right. Slamming his boot down on the brake pad was instinctive. Yanking back at the gear shift while simultaneously banking a hard right was a learned skill. The engine wailed. He was stuck.

Rusty chains attached his vehicle to one of the monstrosities that pursued them. Wistven vehicles were all angles. Because of the flat steel plates that decorated their surfaces, the cars were both heavy and strong. It was the sharp blades that lined their sides which made them deadly. At the front of each vehicle was a mounted harpoon, and behind it, a mound of coiled chain.

It was that very chain, attached to the heavy spear that pierced his vehicle’s hull, which was dragging him out of formation. Tires spun over loose sand as he slid to the side. The chains hummed and snapped taught. His car shuddered. The vehicle on the other side of the chains fishtailed, then steadied once more.

A long barreled gun was in his hands and a full round fired into the enemy car before the fishtailing had ceased. The bullets struck the metal hull in a rapid volley and left in their wake a sheet of dented, but unbroken metal.

With a curse, he shoved the emptied gun between his legs. Bracing an arm against the shuddering steering wheel, he dug from the empty passenger seat a handful of bullets. 

Only half were loaded when the malleable metal on his rear door popped, beginning to warp. The car gave a low groan. He snapped the gun up. The remaining bullets clattered to the floor.

The thick chain was whining and the firing device atop the Wistven vehicle whirred. Gears spun as the chain wound back. They were dragging him in.

He cursed again. Twisting in his seat, he reached back. Stretching as far as he could reach, his fingertips just brushed the tip of the spear that had pierced his car. He wouldn’t be able to dislodge it. Not if he was going to keep a hand on the wheel.

Leaning out the window he fired two succinct shots at the chain that stretched between them. Orange sparks flew. Beneath them, the chain held firm.

His engine against theirs, then. Gripping the steering wheel in a two-handed grasp, he watched the other vehicle, gauging their speed. Releasing a slow breath, he counted to five. He lifted his foot from the breaks just long enough to shift to the accelerator. He stomped down.

His engine growled – and then roared. Dust flew up behind his tires as he gained inches, and then feet, speeding ahead of the angled car. Squinting against the flying sand, he waited.

When the Wistven vehicle revved up, screaming in reply, he jerked the gear-shift back. His car roared into reverse.

The chain snapped taught. 

The Wistven car lost its traction. Its bulky wheels slid over loosely packed sand. Levi could feel his own tires beginning to slide, and as the two cars hit a slight slope, they spun around one another, wheels dancing atop the sand.

Clinging to his car door, and hoping to hell this much spinning wasn’t going to make him sick, Levi fired another several shots at the stubborn chain. It held.

Just when he thought he actually might be ill, the circling spin steadied out. 

He was about ready to abandon the driver’s seat all-together, try to kick the barbed spear out of his rear door. He’d gone so far as to unfasten the car’s flimsy waist-belt, when a third vehicle joined them.

Tires whirling, the low vehicle came from the front. Drifting across the white sand, it spun between them.

Levi knew the car almost as well as he knew his own. He knew the driver better still. 

He had a good idea of what was about to happen.

He could just make out a head of blond hair in the passenger seat. A thin, pale hand gripped at the open window, clenching at the metal frame. Her passenger knew as well as he: she was about to make her move.

So quick was the movement, if he’d blinked, he would have missed it. The dark car jerked, spinning in a circle. One second it was barreling forward. The next – well, it was still barreling forward. But now it was doing so with its nose facing them and its tail-lights looking to the upcoming desert. Through the front window he could clearly see a pair of round goggles and a pile of messy hair. Operating the rapidly reversing vehicle with one hand, Hanji threw him a sloppy thumbs-up.

Her passenger, the much younger Armin Arlert, braced his hands against the dash. He looked pale.

Levi knew Hanji, and he knew her car. Therefore, he was absolutely unsurprised when a panel on her hood scraped back and a round, spinning saw levered up from the depths of her engine. Before he or the Wistvern driver could react, she slammed her brakes.

The saw hit the chain with a horrible grating scrape. Metal snapped. He ducked as the loosed chain cracked back towards him. His left rear window shattered and glass rained down on the vehicle floor.

When he jerked up, Hanji’s vehicle was beside his – still driving in reverse. Her messy hair fluttered over her cheeks and against her nape. “The Spin and Slice 2.0 worked just as I hoped it would!” she shouted, straining to make herself heard over the wind whistling between them.

Levi shook his arm, dislodging the glass shards that pierced his sleeve. “Could have given me a fucking warning, Four-Eyes.”

“Aw, come on – you knew exactly what was going to happen.”

He had.

“Hanji!” Armin leaned out the window. He shouted the warning over his shoulder. “They’re coming back!”

On her other side, the Wistvern vehicle was speeding across the sand. Like him, they’d been momentarily thrown by the breakage of the chain. But now they were back on the chase.

Hanji tossed Armin a rifle. Dropping back in his seat, he loaded it with a practiced ease.

“Who would have guessed they’d be so territorial?” Hanji laughed, readying a handgun at her side.

Armin opened his mouth, and closed it again, seeming to think better of contradicting the older woman. Levi had no such qualms.

“Literally everyone we came across told us Wistverns were territorial.” He glanced down long enough to ready his own gun. “Idiot.”

Hanji only laughed harder. “Had to pass through here to get to the Salt Plains. Nothing to do but fight – then run!” She winked and twisted the wheel.

Levi jerked his wheel, skirting sideways to avoid the cloud of sand that rose from her rapid turn. Facing forward once more, she and Armin sped ahead. The Wistverns accelerated to match.

On his other side was the harsh patter of gunfire – evidence of the fight taking place between the rest of his companions and the remaining Wistverns. Comprised of eleven people and seven vehicles, their group was small but efficient. Usually they could avoid full-out brawls such as the one they were in now. 

But they’d been unlucky, and had run into a Wistvern raiding party on its way South. What was supposed to be a quick, quiet trip through the southerly corner of Wistvern territory was quickly turning into the most violent battle they’d seen in months.

Twisting in his seat, Levi counted the cars that spread across the sand. All were accounted for – so far.

An enemy car was breaking off from the fray. It’s engine roared as it made a beeline in his direction. Twisting back into his seat, he slammed the throttle. As he sped away, putting distance between both enemy and friend, he told himself that the rest of their rag-tag group would be fine. They wouldn’t lose anyone. Not today.

On his right, Hanji’s car swerved. Armin, one foot braced on the hood and his other hooked in the car, steadied the rifle against her car’s flat roof. He fired rapid rounds into the armored vehicle beside them.

The Wistverns had already readied a second harpoon.

Hanji, holding the handgun out her driver’s side window, aimed for their tires.

Meanwhile, the Wistvern car that had broken off from the melee behind them was catching up.

Keeping an eye on his rearview mirror, Levi watched it approach. Every car had a weakness. Holding the wheel steady, he scanned the armored car until his gaze at long last fell upon it. A small window, no more than a foot across on the front, driver’s side. A necessary break in the vehicles armor, because no one could drive blind. It wasn’t much of a weakness, but it was enough.

Dropping the gun into his lap, Levi reached for the dash. If this was going to work, he needed to stay ahead of them. Flicking back a protective case, he uncovered a red switch. Specially designed by Hanji, the button would turn his engine on overdrive, using up a good fourth of his fuel, but in the process, giving his car a brief, but powerful burst of speed.

Bracing a hand against the wheel, he flipped the switch. If the engine was roaring before, now it shrieked with life. Grabbing the gun, he twisted back, and fired three rapid shots into the slim slit. The Wistvern car immediately slowed and then veered to the left, rolling over the sand in an uncontrolled spin.

He had but a moment to celebrate a shot well-made when a grating scrape drew his attention back to the skirmish taking place beside him. Hanji’s car skidded. The metal above her back, left tire had been pierced by a barbed spear. A new, heavy chain tied her and Armin to the armored Wistvern vehicle.

Armin, still half out of the car, clung to the roof with both hands. The car fishtailed, and the boy slid, hands slipping over the car’s smooth roof.

Levi made a hard left. Revving the engine, he sped towards them. He’d said they weren’t losing anyone today, and he’d meant it. Jerking the wheel back, he straightened out, keeping a foot’s distance between her vehicle and his.

Armin’s hair fluttered, obscuring his face. He tucked his chin as a spray of sand blew up, unearthed by the spinning tires below. Hanji’s car slid and Armin yelped, sliding down another few inches.

At this rate, the kid wasn’t going to last another minute. They had to get him back in the car. Bracing the wheel, Levi reached out, intending to push him back in.

Hanji gasped and his hand jerked instinctively back.

Her goggles were gritty with dirt. It was hard to see her eyes. But her dry lips were parted, and the knuckles atop her steering wheel had gone white.

Ahead, no more than a mile in front of them, sand gave way to rock, and rock –  to nothing. A canyon gaped. Sand passed beneath their cars, a blur. It was coming fast.

“Arlert!” Bracing a knee against the wheel, Hanji lurched across the car. With a hard shove, she pushed Armin from his precarious position.

Levi reached out, automatic. Catching Armin by the back of his collar, he hauled him up. Shoving the boy into the passenger seat, he looked up. Time was short. The canyon loomed.

With Armin no longer hanging in the space between them, Levi yanked the wheel. His car struck hers with a sickening crunch. 

The chain dragged Hanji’s vehicle mercilessly forward. The armored car to which it was attached showed no signs of stopping.

He looked forward again. The edge was visible. It was lined with rough and ragged rocks.

She had to get out.

Leaning out, he extended his hand. “Hanji!”

Abandoning her tenuous grip on the wheel, Hanji crawled across the seat. She reached out.

Their fingers brushed. 

The chain groaned. 

Behind her, the Wistvern car spun, losing traction on the thinning sand.

Beneath those dirty goggles, he could see brown eyes. For a fraction of a second, he saw nothing else. And then her car jerked back, caught up with the Wistvern car sliding over the edge.

His fingers closed over empty air.

The last thing he saw were those wide eyes and her hand extended, fingers splayed.

Clenching his jaw, he slammed the breaks, banking a hard right. Rock and dirt ground beneath his tires as he slid. The car jerked to a stop. Beneath his window the canyon gaped.

His ragged breaths were the only sound in the vehicle. In the passenger seat, Armin sat, silent. His round eyes began to fill with tears.

Hanji’s car, and the Wistvern car to which she’d been hooked, were gone. From the canyon’s dark crevices, rose twin, dark trails of smoke.

With a low growl, he slammed his fist against the wheel. The horn blared-

He gasped, and sat up.

The tent was dark. His breaths were stuttered and his heart beat a rapid, racing rhythm against his chest. The bedroll beneath him was damp with sweat. Throwing his blanket off, he rose, stumbling to his feet. 

The dunes were bathed in a pale, blue light. Cold sand bit at his feet, but he paid it no mind. Her tent, as always, was set up nearby. Not more than a few yards from his own. Between the loosely secured flaps, there escaped a sliver of warm light. 

From her tent, there was always warm light.

Not pausing to announce his presence, he ripped open the flaps.

A blond head jerked up in surprise. Atop a pile of blankets, Armin sat. A candle, half melted, was stuck in the sand beside him and a heavy book lay open in his lap.

Levi stopped. He stared as his still sleepy mind worked to determine why it was Armin and not Hanji in Hanji’s tent.

 Armin’s eyes alit with understanding. Ever so carefully, he closed the book. “Ah – um Mr. Levi? You dreamt about her again, didn’t you?”

Levi rubbed a sweaty palm over his face. He closed his eyes. His mind was waking up from the throes of sleep, starting to distinguish fantasy and reality. He took a breath. 

Reality snapped back into place.

Hanji. The armored Wistvern cars. The canyon. It was a dream – but also a memory. Six months ago, he’d watched Hanji Zoe go off that cliff.

His hand dropped from his face. Clutching the sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt, he took a moment to compose himself, to still the rapid beating of his heart. The kid – Armin was watching him with a look that suggested he might be thinking of giving him a reassuring pat – or god forbid, a hug.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Just a dream. Sorry to interrupt.” Forcibly unclenching his fingers from the fabric of his shirt, he backed out of the tent.

Armin called after him, but Levi was already trudging through the sand. He stopped at his tent long enough to shove his feet into a pair of worn boots, and then he was off, marching away from the small camp. As he climbed the closest dune, fine sand slipped and slid beneath his boots. It rolled down the dune behind him, a ripple marring the otherwise smooth slope.

Above, stars filled the sky, seemingly infinite in number. Hell, maybe they were. Four-Eyes was always talking about them, the stars. About how in the time before, people had studied them, even traveled up there. But then again, she’d talked about a lot of things.

He sat heavily upon the sand. 

Stars weren’t the only thing she’d liked to go on about. Shitty-glasses loved knowledge, and learning, and _doing._ She was responsible for the majority of the innovations to their vehicles, because once she had an idea in her head she couldn’t let it go. Not until she’d seen it through.

Rubbing his hands roughly over his face, he shook his head. She’d been loud, exuberant, obsessive, annoying at times, but she’d irrevocably belonged. The dream had plagued him countless nights since… that day. And every time he awoke, for the briefest of moments, he was teased with the thought that maybe, it was simply that. A dream.

Six months ago, he’d worried about losing one of their companions. But somehow, it had never crossed his mind that it might have been her. She’d been with him and Erwin since their days on the outskirts of the dunes, a constant presence at his side. He knew her. He’d seen her during her lowest days and in her darkest nights. Even still – compared to everyone else, she’d seemed immutable.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been wrong. He laughed, short and sharp. It was swallowed by the empty desert and surrounding dunes, a desolate sound.

With or without Hanji, life moved relentlessly on. Erwin couldn’t stop. Armin, Eren, Mikasa, and the rest of the younger ones couldn’t either. And neither could he. This world to which they’d been born offered no respites – not even for grief. Especially not for grief.

And so he pretended that he had none. It was a lie. But he was guilty of far worse.


	2. Chapter 2

 

_“I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not.”  - The Moon and Sixpence_

* * *

He didn’t sleep. But that wasn’t unusual. He spent the night upon the dune, torn between thoughts of days yet to come and those long past. The specters of past and future haunted him in equal measure. He thought of their single-minded journey: to find a place to call home. Whether or not such a place existed, he had no idea. But to stop now would be pointless.

If they ever did manage to find such an unlikely place, there were comrades, far too many in number, who would never see it at all. Faces, too freshly gone to have felt the disintegration of time, played like a morbid roll call through his mind, so easily called to attention. Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Oluo, Gunther, Eld, Marco, and now Hanji. 

When he closed his eyes, he saw her. Hand stretched out. Eyes so wide. And then nothing.

Only when sun had begun to waver into existence upon the horizon, did he return to camp. In his absence, it had begun to stir. Tents were being dismantled and vehicles loaded. 

When he marched back into camp, loose boots stomping across the sand, not a single spare glance was cast in his direction. They were used to these nights of his. In the years since they’d come together, the sleepless nights had come and gone, sporadic. In the last six months, however, they’d become a frequent and increasingly unwelcome visitor.

As he entered the bustling camp, Erwin greeted him with a nod. Erwin, who’d long ago assumed the role of unofficial leader for their rag-tag group, didn’t inquire as to his whereabouts either. He knew better than anyone the quiet way in which Levi dealt with grief. As Levi passed, Erwin lifted his head, and simply asked, “Will you be ready to go in ten?”

Erwin was being generous. Judging by the rapidly deteriorating campsite, everyone else would be ready in five minutes or less. He nodded anyway, opting this once to accept the generosity. His mind, still rousing itself from its introspective wanderings on the dune could use a few extra minutes. Not to mention his joints, which were still stiff from the desert chill to which they’d been exposed.

Not far from his patchy tent, Eren was bent over his car. Really, it was Mikasa’s car. But for god knows what reason, she had a soft spot for the boy, and often let him drive it.

Eren jerked up as Armin jogged by, carrying the bundled fabric of his tent. He called out, and as he did so, rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek. It left a black smear across his sand-browned skin.

“Armin! You think you might be able to fix Hanji’s modification yet? The one she made to Mikasa’s gear shift?”

Armin slowed to a stop. Atop the bundled fabric, his fingers were clenched. He shook his head. “I – not yet. We lost a lot of her notes when-” His eyes flicked in Levi’s direction, conscious of the fact that he stood not ten feet away. “And um – she hadn’t taught me all of it yet.” Clearing his throat, he lifted his head. “But I’ll figure it out! Just give me time.”

Levi had turned to his own tent well before Armin had finished speaking. By the time Eren had begun loudly reassuring Armin that _yes, they all had faith in him_ , Levi was hurriedly rolling the rough fabric, doing his best to tune them out. He didn’t need any more damn reminders. Even in death, Hanji Zoe found plenty of ways to ingrain herself into their lives.

After his tent was wrapped up and his bedroll rolled up beside it, what was left in the sand was a pouch of water, a folded, (mostly) clean rag, and a leather sack heavy with the weight of nine books.

After stuffing the rag into his pocket and slinging the water pouch over his shoulder, he balanced both the tent and bedroll under one arm. With the other, he hoisted the heavy sack. As he walked, the sharp corners of the books prodded his back.

“That’s a lot of weight to carry every day.”

Levi glanced over his shoulder.

Mikasa, arms laden with a good portion of their food and water, stared at the bulky bag on his back.

He turned. “I’m not leaving them behind.”

“Her books won’t help us.”

She had a point. They weren’t engineering books, nor were they relevant science manuals. The books that weighed upon his back were philosophy texts, a dictionary, several thick histories, a nearly crumbling book of old poems, and a single novel. Its cover and front pages were missing. They didn’t even know its name.

Mikasa tried again. “She wouldn’t want you sacrifice valuable food and water to keep carrying them along. We’re short a car as it is.”

A flash, like he’d looked into the epicenter of the hot-midday sun – and then Hanji knelt before him. No, not in the sand. They were in her tent.

Damp hair clung to her forehead. She absently brushed it away. Hanji stared down, entirely focused on the book before her.

Levi sat cross-legged on her mat, fruitlessly working to rub permanently ingrained grime from the tips of his boots as she read. He’d gotten a look at the cover before it was opened and laid flat against the sand. _The Wealth of Nations_.

When he’d attempted cleaning his boots long enough to be thoroughly frustrated, he dropped the offending shoe, and sighed, “What the hell is that even good for?” He nodded to the yellowing pages beneath her hand. “Philosophy’s no help out here.”

Hanji tilted her head and frowned as though he’d asked the most peculiar question. Pausing just long enough to rub a dusty sleeve over her goggles, she answered him with a quirked smile. “Philosophy, history, the old sciences-” she patted a hand on the grimy books she’d carefully piled beside her. “They’re everything, Levi.”

Her hand shifted. Dirt-stained fingers patted the rifle she’d left perched in the sand. “ _This_ is so I can live today. But _those-_ ” She nodded to the tomes. “Those are our future.” When she looked up, her eyes glimmered with an almost manic hope. “Knowledge will save us.”

“Levi?”

Mikasa’s voice snapped him back.

The camp was coming down, people around him were moving.

“I’m bringing the damn books.” He didn’t look back.

They crossed the desert, hot mid-day sun beating, relentless, down upon them. Despite every instinct that urged they stop, seek shelter, do anything to escape the deadly heat of day, they kept moving. Though the night provided solace from the heat, it concealed much deadlier enemies than the sun. And so they traveled now, when they had some hope, at least, of seeing other dangerous humans and spotting any traps that might lay in weight.

Levi’s only consolation from the mid-day heat was the roof above his head which provided a modicum of relief from the direct light, and the open windows on either side that blew, dirty, but still refreshing, air around the interior of the car.

Not far ahead, Connie and Sasha rode a compact motorcycle-turned-dirt bike over the flat sand. Though both of their heads were wrapped in pale, dirt-stained hoods, Levi thought, for them, the heat must be nearly unbearable. But to their credit, neither the driver his passenger seemed to be unduly bothered by the temperature. In fact, they’d had an opportunity to re-purpose a broken down vehicle they’d stumbled upon a few months back, but they’d turned it down. Connie said he liked to feel the wind on his face. And Sasha, who rode behind him with a crossbow and rifle strapped across her back, maintained that her spot on the back of a motorcycle gave her the clearest possible shot.

Connie and Sasha weren’t the only ones who preferred alternative modes of transportation. In his rearview mirror, Levi could identify Jean’s position from the spray of sand left in the wake of his heavy dirt bike. If he squinted, he could just make out the smaller figure that squeezed behind him. Armin, who used to ride with…Hanji. Levi adjusted his grip on the wheel. Now the kid usually split his time between riding in the back seat of Mikasa and Eren’s car and on the back of Jean’s bike.

Ymir and Krista’s car drove near the center of the formation. Ymir, an otherwise reckless driver (he’d watched her drive off on solo scouting trips), took special care with Krista in the passenger seat. 

Krista, who sat with a small arsenal tucked beneath her seat, wasn’t their best shot, but when facing an enemy, was one of the few who never flinched in the face of gunfire.

And at the front, Erwin drove. His vehicle, which was slightly lifted, had the back cargo space to carry all of their food and water, but he insisted it be spread equally between them. He kept the room at the back of his vehicle, primarily empty space, happy to let an enemy think their goods were concentrated there. Like Levi, he preferred to drive alone.

The troop of vehicles was making good time across the desert, mostly due to the flat they’d hit early in the morning. If the map they’d bartered off a rare not-immediately-violent tribe of people they met a month back, was to be trusted (which it probably wasn’t), they were due to hit another hilly region – this one with much taller dunes than they’d camped at the night before – soon. 

The map also indicated that they would be skirting close to the territory of a warlord and his small empire when crossing the dunes. They’d have to be careful to be mindful of the position of the sun and map their position against the stars to ensure they didn’t wander too far East, and into the warlord’s territory. 

Their current goal was a range of mountains in the far North. Hanji had hoped they might harbor some livable land. If they could get past the dunes and the warlord to the East, then it should just be a salt flat and several long valleys before the base of the mountains.

Flexing his hands on the wheel, Levi straightened, stretching his spine. Seeing the image of the mountains on the map, pictured just a few inches from the valleys and another half-inch from the salt flats made them seem tantalizingly close. But Levi knew better. They had a long ways to go. And that meant covering as much ground as possible today. They would be making few stops.

Settling back into his seat, Levi rested his hand at the bottom of the wheel. Sand, pale and bright passed beneath his car, seemingly endless in scope and duration. Maybe it was. Something in the sand, perhaps an abandoned scrap of metal, caught the light. It flashed, bright.

He was no longer driving.

His car was parked. A low hill shaded it from the glare of the falling sun. Kneeling, he worked to patch a punctured tire. The dirt beneath his knees had already begun to cool. Atop the hood, being pretty god damn unhelpful, Hanji sat, watching him work.

Rubbing the back of his arm over his forehead, he looked up. “You just gonna sit there doing nothing?”

Hanji waved a hand. “I am doing something. Thinking.”

Turning back to the tire, he blew a derisive breath.

“You have dirt on your forehead.”

Muttering a curse, he ran the back of his other arm over his face. He looked up. She gave him a thumbs-up.

He worked for another five minutes before she spoke.

“I’ve been thinking.”

He finished rotating the tire before he sighed and looked up. “About what?”

Leaning forward, she perched her elbows on her knees. “About when we finally do find Hiraeth.” As always, when she uttered the name she’d dubbed their long-sought home, the corner of her lips quirked and her eyes gave the slightest squint. He suspected the name was some kind of joke, with a punchline she alone understood.

He gave her another few seconds to finish amusing herself at the private joke before gesturing for her to get on with it.

“Before we can use the soil – assuming that we find any – we’ll have to ensure that it hasn’t been contaminated. I’m struggling to come up with of a means of testing the soil that can be done with the technology in our possession and doesn’t involve the use of a human Guinea Pig.”

Levi waited to see if she’d continue. When she didn’t, he turned back to the tire. “You’ll figure something out.” He said it with confidence, not because he was sure the technology existed to do such a thing (even if it had, it probably didn’t anymore), but because it was necessary to their survival. And when it came to their survival, Hanji always found a way.

Hanji hummed, picking at a loose button on her coat. “Guess I’d better think some more then.” She reclined back on his hood.

“You know there’s a flame thrower right beneath you. Probably about where your big head is.”

“I know. I put it there.”

Levi blinked and the scene was gone, replaced with pale sand disappearing beneath his tires. Sucking in a short breath between his teeth, Levi squeezed the wheel. He didn’t loosen his grip until well after his knuckles had turned white and his fingers were tingling. Hanji hadn’t left him alone in life, and he supposed it was too fucking much to ask that she leave him alone in death.

He didn’t miss her. They had too far to go - too many hazards stood before them to allow for time spent missing anyone.

To say a person who has lost a limb ‘misses it’ would be a gross simplification. Hanji was gone. And so he ached.


	3. Chapter 3

_Home: /hōm/  
_

_1\. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.  
_

_2. a place where something normally or naturally lives or is located._

* * *

They traveled all that day and much of the next. It was only after Jean spotted lines cut into the sand – a sure sign of vehicles having passed through not long before – that Erwin called a reluctant halt.

Levi, with Erwin standing on his right and Mikasa on his left, inspected the lines. Kneeling in the hot sand, he ran a finger along the braised ridges.

“What do you think?” Erwin asked, eyeing the surrounding dunes.

Levi shrugged. He couldn’t be sure. “These look like some kind of bike tracks. There were more over there” He nodded to the base of a nearby dune, “that might have been made by some kind four wheeled vehicle, but wind’s come through here. They’re all but gone.”

Mikasa was also keeping a careful watch on the dunes. “You think they’re passing through? Or have we drifted too close to warlord territory?”

Standing, Levi rubbed the toe of his boot over the track. “Either way, we should get the fuck out of here.”

“No.” Erwin spoke. His voice was clipped. All heads instantly turned in his direction. “If we’ve drifted into warlord territory, I want to make sure there isn’t a trap waiting for us.”

Mikasa turned away from the dunes, for the first time devoting her full attention to the conversation. “Why would there be a trap?”

Rather than answer, Erwin waved, signaling for Connie and Sasha to join them. 

Dropping the battered baseball they’d been tossing between them, the pair jogged quickly over. Connie gave them a short nod as Sasha, coming up behind him, threw her hand up in a sloppy salute. She grinned. “What’s up?”

“We need to make sure there aren’t any parties lying in wait for us. There’s plenty of hiding places up ahead, especially with the size of the dunes here. I need you both to scout ahead.”

Connie and Sasha were nodding well before he’d finished speaking.

“Don’t scout more than a few miles ahead. In the off chance that we are in warlord territory, I want to be able to move sufficiently North-East by sundown.”

Promising to be back within the hour, Connie and Sasha took their leave. Sand and dirt fanned out behind them as Connie’s bike climbed the closest dune. The grating purr of his engine quieted as they disappeared over dune’s peak. Within a minute the sound had faded into silence.

Levi settled onto his hood, his sleeping blanket spread beneath him to dull the metal’s sharp heat. Upon the blanket, he’d spread his weapons, each dismantled so they could be properly cleaned. He was in the middle of wiping down his favorite gun, when Armin approached, shuffling over the sand. Against his chest, he held a browning book.

Stopping in front of him, he waited until Levi had finished cleaning the gun’s barrel before holding it out.

Carefully pushing the dismantled weapons aside, he cleared a spot on the blanket. Armin set the book, with equal care, among the artillery.

“Thank you for holding on to them. I’m grateful that I’ll have the chance to read all of it.”

Levi, who’d already gone back to cleaning his weapons, looked up as he finished.

Armin glanced down, nervously kicking at the sand. “I hadn’t thanked you before. I thought I should.”

He shrugged. He hadn’t been doing it for him. But Armin was smart. He figured the kid probably already knew that.

Nodding once to himself, Armin turned to leave. But before he’d taken his second step, he stopped, hesitating. The look he turned over his shoulder was long, searching. Finally, he spoke. “So you understand, then? Why the books matter?”

Levi worked the cloth over the long barrel. “I don’t care about the books.” Oil stained his fingers and the cloth, black. “But Four-Eyes did.” He left it at that.

Armin seemed to understand. Like he said, the boy was smart. He would come and get another book in another few days or so. That was their routine.

Levi had worked through all of his weapons and was finishing putting them back in their places – at his hip, under his seat, under his passenger seat, hidden beneath the wheel (there was no such thing as too many hidden weapons), when the first sign of Connie and Sasha’s return, the high-pitched buzz of an engine, was heard echoing between the dunes.

Rolling up his blanket and tossing it in the backseat, he prepared to drive. It was close to an hour and a half since the duo had left. The sun had sunk a half an inch lower on the horizon than they would have liked. Erwin would no doubt be ready to move.

The bike crested the nearest dune. As it rocketed down the hill, a small avalanche of sand rolled behind it, disturbed by its racing path. Levi sat up in his seat. They weren’t slowing. Even as they hit a patch of flat, and were nearly upon them, their speed continued unchecked.

The bike was on a collision course for Erwin’s car. Seconds before impact, the bike swerved. Braking sideways against the sand, they came to a rough stop.

Levi was out of his car. A cloud of dust obscured the bike. He heard Sasha well before he saw her.

“ _Help!_ They shot him! They shot Connie!”

Amid the dust, two figures crouched. One was crumpled, and lay limp, on their side. The other crouched. In one hand they held the fallen figure. In their other, they clutched the handle of the tipped bike.

By the time he reached them, the dust had cleared. Sasha’s face was wet and streaked with dirt. On her knees, she clutched Connie’s limp body. His head rested against her stomach, and his back over her lap. His face was pale. Where his vest lay open, a dark stain spread over the right side of his shirt.

“What happened?”

Rapidly shaking her head, she pressed her hand over the wound. Her fingers were trembling. “They shot him. They shot him.”

“Blouse!” At the use of her last name, she started. Her wide, wet eyes turned up. “What. Happened?”

Behind him, Erwin was shouting something. A door slammed. Further back, an engine roared to life.

Her eyes darted, unsettled, between he and Connie. Finally, she met his gaze. “It was like Erwin said. They were waiting for us. About fifteen of them. The warlord’s people.”

And suddenly, Erwin was right there. Grasping Sasha’s shoulder, he leaned in, meeting her gaze. “Fifteen?”

Her head bobbed.

Erwin straightened. “We’re moving out! Immediately!”

Krista rushed in. “Sasha! We’ll put him in the back of our car. I can take care of him.”

Rubbing her sleeve over her face, Sasha hurried to stand. With Connie draped between them, they rushed to the car.

Erwin directed Mikasa and Eren to move the bike to the back of his vehicle. Levi understood his reasoning. While a skilled shot, Sasha was nothing more than a proficient driver. She wouldn’t be able to drive it, especially not as she was now. And they couldn’t afford to leave it behind.

Once Connie was settled in the back seat of Ymir’s car with Krista hovering over him, Sasha hopped out. She was already reaching over her shoulder, loosing the crossbow from its strap. Marching across the sand, she pointed a long finger at Jean.

“I’m riding with you.” She notched an arrow into place. “I wanna be able to see each of them clearly when I shoot them in the face.”

Jean was already on his bike. It was his engine Levi had first heard.

Jean glared. He glanced at Connie, pale in the back of Ymir’s car, then back at her. At last, he gave a sharp nod. “Fine. So long as you don’t unbalance me.”

Sasha slipped smoothly into the open space behind him. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Other than watching nearby enemies take arrows to the face.”

“Other than that.”

Levi powered up his car. Around him the others were doing the same. As he readied the gun at his side, he watched the hills. Any second now, they’d be coming.

Erwin honked, three beeps in quick succession. They were moving out. Fast.

Sand flew up, swirling in eddies behind the rapidly accelerating vehicles. Levi tugged a scarf over his mouth and nose. Engine’s roaring, the troop climbed one dune and then circled another. Erwin led them. From where Levi drove, near the middle of the pack, the glow of his taillights was just visible in the haze of their small self-made storm.

On his left, there was a flash of movement; a dark shape flitting in and out of visibility in the dust. On his right, there was another.

Levi lifted his gun.

Without warning, a dark shape barreled through the dust. A truck, riding high over the dunes peeled towards them. Large wheels gouged the sand. And then the passenger side window lit in bright white, flickering light. Levi ducked as his car came under gunfire. Swerving right, he straightened, and fired a quick round of shots back.

Bulky vehicles were materializing around them. Between the heavier cars and trucks, agile dirt-bikes wove darting paths. 

A particularly fast biker darted in, easily infiltrating their tight formation. He’d barely raised his weapon when his head snapped back. The bike wobbled and tipped. From where the rider lay half-buried in the sand, there protruded an arrow’s thick shaft.

On the back of Jean’s bike, Sasha notched a second arrow.

The patter of gunfire came from all sides. Levi shot the driver of an encroaching truck, only to have it replaced by a bulky car seconds later. There might have been fifteen drivers when Sasha and Connie were attacked, but there were sure as hell more now.

Tossing the empty gun aside, he grabbed a spare from beneath his seat. There was no time to reload. Ducking back, he dodged a volley of bullets. Under a barrage of gunfire, he whipped out his arm, and shot blind. He fired until he heard a sharp hiss. He’d hit the engine. With any luck the car would stall.

His victory, however, was short-lived. Up ahead, Erwin’s break lights flashed red. His horn blared once before his vehicle skidded to a halt. Seconds later, Levi saw what Erwin, in the front, had seen first: Jagged spikes protruded from the sand. If they’d crossed them, the spikes would have shredded their tires.

As everyone slid to a stop, Erwin revved his engine, preparing for a charge to the left.

A fast moving truck cut him off. Gunfire peppered the sand before them.

It wasn’t good. Forced to halt, they were pressed together in a tight formation. Around them, the warlord’s cars had begun to circle, effectively forming a wall.

Shifting in his seat, Levi pried his third gun out from beneath the passenger seat. The surrounding cars were circling, nearly nose to tail. It was a wall from which he wasn’t sure they could escape. His fingers tightened reflexively over the gun. And if they couldn’t escape, they’d have nothing to do but sit in the open as their attackers peppered them mercilessly with bullets.

If they were going to survive this, they’d have to break through.

A fresh spray of bullets pounded the sand. Levi ducked as lead hammered the side of his car. His ears rang with the sound.

Nearby, Mikasa’s car was also under fire. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin hunched low as bullets embedded in the thick metal doors. Amidst the raining bullets, Mikasa levered herself up, fired off two quick shots, and ducked back down, narrowly avoiding a volley of shots that shattered the window behind her.

Ymir had slid to a stop at an angle. Her front lights nearly touched the back of Mikasa’s car. Hunched in the corner between the two vehicles, Jean and Sasha crouched low. Crossbow temporarily abandoned in the sand, Sasha clutched her shotgun against her chest.

Grabbing the back of her head, Jean pushed Sasha flat against the sand as a fresh wave of bullets sprayed the vehicles on either side of them.

The moment the gunfire slowed, Levi pushed himself up. He fired three rapid shots towards the circling vehicles before he was forced to drop back down. Bullets once again pounded his vehicle.

Grinding his teeth, Levi reloaded the gun. They had to break through the warlord’s cars, get out of this hell hole, no matter the cost. At this rate, they weren’t going to last another ten minutes. Snapping a new clip into place, Levi glanced in his rearview mirror – and saw, a distant, rising cloud of dust. It wasn’t large – probably the result of one car, three at most. But whatever it was, it was coming fast. He hoped to hell it wasn’t reinforcements. They were fucking overwhelmed as it was.

He sat up in time to see Erwin flash his lights once, twice, three times. It was the signal to charge. Erwin knew as well as he, how imperative it was that they get out, and get out fast. Levi looked from Jean and Sasha, crouched down in the sand, to Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, where they were pinned down in their car, then to Ymir, who was ducked low, reaching for a weapon, to Krista who was covering her head. Connie lay, pale, beneath her.

If they made a charge now, not everyone would make it. There were too many enemies. The wall of cars was too strong. But if they didn’t break through the line now, that everyone here would die, was a certainty. They had to move.

Wrenching himself up, he flipped back the red-button case. “Kirstein! Blouse! Get back on the bike! Now!”

Twisting to check the status of their attackers, his hand hovered, ready, over the button. They had to break through. And they were going to have to break through together. The timing had to be just right. With his foot poised atop the gas, he waited for the final signal.

It didn’t come.

From behind the wall of cars, a new engine roared.

The car he’d seen stirring dust in the distance had arrived.

Dingy, and made from what appeared to be the scraps of several different cars, the new vehicle looked like it might fall apart. But it didn’t drive like it. 

Tires spinning, it drifted effortlessly over the sand. From the driver’s side window, a hand emerged, holding a scuffed silver pistol.

As the shots rang out, Levi instinctively flinched back. But they weren’t firing at Levi or his companions. Beneath the barrage of gunfire, one of their attacker’s tires blew.

From the corner of his eye, Levi saw Erwin sit up straight. Brows drawn together, he watched the new showdown that was taking place before them.

Levi watched it too. Whoever the driver was, he might just give them the chance they needed to escape. Erwin clearly thought so as well. From his car, his eyes flicked from the warlord’s men to the new driver. Upon his face was the look of intense concentration.

Despite the arrival of the new driver, the warlord’s men didn’t break formation. Still, they circled their small group. Revving its engine, the driver spun a quick circle. Only once it was driving in the opposite direction of the warlord’s fighters, did Levi see the device atop the hood. A harpoon. Behind it, sat a roll of heavy chain.

A Wistvern vehicle? But that made no sense. The day a Wistvern came to their rescue would be the day clean rain fell from the sky.  

He ducked back as a stray bullet nicked the side of his door. Whizzing by, it passed inches from his head. His ears rang.

Levi straightened back up in time to see the harpoon fire. The barbed spear struck a low-riding truck, embedding deep within its rear bumper. The car jerked left, skidding across the dunes. With it, the low truck was dragged.

But rather than reel it in as the Wistverns had done before, the engine roared, and the vehicle punched suddenly into reverse. At the same time, the chain released. The truck’s driver screamed obscenities as the vehicle fishtailed, then overturned. It rolled, breaking to pieces as it tumbled down a steep dune.

In the seconds that followed a second harpoon was fired, and with it, another car dragged out of formation.

Nearby, Erwin’s horned blared. It was time to go.

Levi punched the gas. As his tires spun, gaining traction over the sand, he jabbed down the red button. His engine took on a new life, grinding and growling as his car attained new speeds.

Ahead, the formation was beginning to fall apart. The second vehicle had been disposed of in much the same way as the first, and now the mystery Wistvern car was back, and ramming the side of one of the larger trucks.

They had an opening.

Levi glanced back long enough to ensure that everyone was keeping up, and then pressed the gas pedal as far as it would go. Gripping the shimmying wheel in a tight grasp, he pushed the vehicle for all it was worth. This would likely be their only chance. If they didn’t get out now, they might not get out at all.

As he sped through the line of cars, a Volkswagen-hybrid whipped out of formation, quickly turning to face him head on.

Grabbing up the closest gun, Levi reached out the window. The first shot he fired nicked the windshield. The second dented the hood.

When the car was nearly upon him, he swerved. His third shot went through the driver’s side window. It hit true. The Volkswagen veered off course. It struck another of the warlord’s cars and they folded together in a horrible cacophony of scraping, grating metal.  

As he drove, breaking away from the warlord’s cars, he kept an eye on his rearview mirror.

Slipping between two skidding trucks, Jean and Sasha sped through the line. Not far behind, Ymir and Krista barreled through the space cleared from the mystery driver’s attack on the third truck.

Erwin had already made it through. A few yards in front of Levi, he was slowing just enough to give them a chance to regroup.

Levi glanced back in time to see Mikasa attempt the pass. Revving the engine, she slid easily through an open gap. Levi relaxed his grip on the wheel. He’d started to turn back to the front, when a low fast car broke away from the pack. Growling over the sand, it quickly gained on Mikasa’s vehicle. As soon as its nose broke even with hers, the driver swerved right. Both cars shuddered under the impact of the crash.

In the passenger seat, Eren was struggling with someone from the other vehicle who was attempting to crawl into their car. Mikasa swerved left, but the other driver corrected, swerving with her.

Levi was already letting up on the gas, calculating how quickly he’d be able to reach them – when the Wistvern car made a reappearance. It’s bulky engine rumbled as it accelerated behind them. Aligning itself with the vehicle attacking Mikasas’, the Wistvern car revved its engine, and accelerated rapidly behind it. It struck the car’s bumper with a grating crunch.

Despite the Wistvern car’s dingy appearance, the engine hummed with life. Roaring as it revved up once more, sand sprayed up behind its tires it drove the warldord’s battle car mercilessly forward.

Amid the sand spraying at its rear, Levi spotted several small, dark objects dropping to the ground. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what they were.

As the war party regrouped and launched pursuit, the first wave of cars that howled over the sand struck the abandoned objects. Flipped back and overturned, they disappeared in a cloud of fire and smoke.

The cars that weren’t involved in the immediate explosion weren’t able to stop, and struck and entangled with the burning vehicles.

From the smoking wreckage, not a single car emerged to pursue them. Yet still, one enemy remained.

The war car that the Wistvern vehicle was pushing, had, at least, been pushed far enough that those inside the car no longer had a clear shot at Mikasa, Eren, or Armin. But Levi could see, as he glanced repeatedly up to his rearview mirror, that the focus of their attacks had shifted to the Wistvern vehicle. A man brandishing an ax climbed out an open rear window.

Levi, who’d been gradually slowing since Mikasa’s car had been attacked, was almost far enough back to help – but not quite.

Swinging the ax in a brutal arc, the warlord’s man managed one solid hit into the Wistvern hood before a shot rang out. Dropping the ax, he toppled from the hood.

From Mikasa’s backseat window, Armin watched him fall. His rifle sat braced against the window.

By now, Eren was leaning out as well. Brandishing a shotgun, he aimed low. Several popping shots rang out before the war car’s right front tire blew. Losing traction on the sand. It skidded once, and then slid, uncontrolled into the closest dune.

Meanwhile, steam rose from the Wistvern car’s ravaged hood. It was beginning to slow.

Levi looked forward, to Erwin’s car, where it sped across the hilly sands, showing no signs of slowing. Then back to the black, acrid cloud of smoke that rose from the burning vehicles behind them.

Erwin wasn’t going to stop. Not until they’d put more distance between they and the warlord’s men. He wouldn’t want to risk anyone who’d managed to escape the carnage unscathed, catching up.

Levi’s gaze turned to the struggling Wistvern car. Their wheels were slowing; with each spin, they turned tiredly over the sand. The car wasn’t going to make it.

Making a split second decision, Levi tapped his brakes – hard. His car slowed to a near crawl. Jean and Sasha and then Krista and Ymir passed him. As they passed, their heads turned, looking after him. Their expressions ranged from worried to confused.

Mikasa’s car passed him last and the Wistvern car, still slowing, lagged several seconds behind.

He slowed enough so that it too, passed. The Wistvern driver, whoever he was, wasn’t their friend. Their only friends out here were the ten they saw every day. But neither was he their enemy. If not for his intervention, they might not have made it out at all. Some of them - if not all of them - owed him their lives. Levi could not leave him here to die.

As the Wistvern car passed, through a fractured window, Levi could just make out a hooded figure. What wasn’t shaded by the hood, was wrapped in a sand-stained scarf.

As soon as the car passed, Levi spun the steering wheel, carefully maneuvering behind it. As soon as the nose of his car lined up with the Wistvern car’s rusty, dented bumper, he hit the gas. The cars collided with a slight groan. For a moment, the Wistvern car seemed to resist the pressure. Its wide wheels clung to the sand.

Levi tapped the gas, urging his engine up to a growl. Shuddering beneath the weight of the extra vehicle, his car emitted a protesting wine – but it was working. Both his car and the Wistvern vehicle were picking up speed.

Pushing relentlessly forward, it wasn’t long until sand was rolling quickly beneath them.

Levi knew his car wouldn’t hold up under this kind of strain for very long, but he didn’t expect them to be driving any longer than was absolutely necessary. Erwin was well aware that Connie lay in the back of Ymir’s car; and judging from the size and positioning of the bullet would, was likely in a somewhat precarious position. They would have to stop to treat him properly. Erwin would only drive until they’d put the minimum necessary distance between themselves and the enemy that lay, temporarily stunned, behind them.

The sun was in the early stages of its descent on the horizon when up at the front, Erwin’s car at long last began to slow. It was a good thing, too. In the last twenty minutes, the shaking and shimmying of Levi’s car had increased to worrying levels.

As they approached the group of stopped cars, Levi eased off the gas. And when he reached the small circle of vehicles, he braked, parking within the cluster. The Wistvern vehicle didn’t. Passing the parked vehicles by, it rolled another several meters. It groaned to a stop at the base of a nearby dune.

By the time Levi was out of his car, both Ymir and Mikasa already had guns aimed at the mystery vehicle. They knew all too well how few could be trusted upon the sands. Behind them, Sasha and Krista carefully pulled Connie from the car. A reddened bandage encircled his waist – Krista’s doing. He didn’t look to be any more pale than he was before.

Turning back to the Wistvern car, Levi readied his own weapon. The stranger had helped them. For what reason, they didn’t know. What he _did_ know, was that in this world precious few were motivated by altruism. There was a good chance the stranger had helped them in hopes of robbing them later, himself.

Stepping out of his vehicle, Erwin called out to the stalled vehicle. “We’d like to thank you for your assistance back there. Come out. Preferably unarmed.”

Wind stirred across the dunes, whipping up small eddies of dust and sand.

The door to the Wistvern vehicle creaked. A brown boot, that looked to be in worse shape, even than the rickety car, pressed against the sand. A second boot joined the first, and the door swung fully open.

Mikasa and Ymir were quiet and still. As the figure stood, rising from the vehicle, they stared cooly down the barrels of their guns.

They were tall. Beneath their hood and scarf-wrapped face, light, dusty clothes covered a slim figure. A woman’s figure. Raising both hands, she indicated that she held no weapon. Palms open, she gave them a wave.

A jolt, sharp and sickly, cut its way through his gut. For a second, he thought he was about to be caught up in another memory, so severe was the nostalgia that struck him.

The figure took a step, and then another. Her left foot couldn’t seem to keep up with her right, and as a result, she walked with a slight limp. And as she moved across the dune, her shoulders swayed, just so. In her steps, there was an impossible bounce.

And Levi was blinking against the bright sun, waiting for the dream or vision or whatever the hell it was to just _stop,_ because, apart from the limp, he knew only one person who walked _just like that_ – and she’d died six months ago.

Something clattered behind him. Armin made a wordless sound.

He closed his eyes. Squeezed them tight. Then opened them once more.

She was still there.

She drew back her hood. From the dirty fabric, tumbled brown, oily hair. Reaching up, she began peeling away the scarf.

Levi was already moving.

It was impossible. But he wasn’t god-damn dreaming. She was-

Stumbling. When he’d moved, she’d responded in kind. And now her limping walk was a limping run. With every step, her left boot kicked up sand.

Loosed, her scarf fell away.

The gun he’d been carrying dropped forgotten in the sand.

Hanji Zoe, eyes half-concealed by dusty goggles, long nose speckled with dirt, and her wide mouth open, on the precipice of a smile, limped quickly over the sand. With each step, she closed the distance between them.

He met her half-way.

He grabbed the material of her shirt in a rough grip, as she reached out, grabbing for his. Where his hand fisted the rough material, he could feel, behind his knuckles, the heavy, even beat of her heart. He took a breath – and _fuck_ it smelled like her.

Tightening his hold, he gave her a slight shake. “Fuck you, Four-Eyes.” What was meant to be a shout, came out a croak. He released her shirt, but when he opened his hands, he didn’t know where to put them. At a loss, and overwhelmed with a sharp, stinging emotion for which he had no name, he grabbed up her shirt again, yanking her closer. Pressing his forehead against her collarbone, he spoke into her dirty clothes. “ _Damn it_. You were – _Fuck. Fuck you._ ”

Hanji’s hands twisted into the material of his coat. Against his head, her lips moved. Under her breath, she muttered the same phrase again and again. It sounded a lot like, _I found you._

Only when he’d drained his reservoir of expletives, did he pull back. Hanji was staring at him. Her goggles had fogged. She said, “I’m not crying.” He assumed she said such a thing because, as a rule, this wasn’t a situation in which Hanji would cry. Her tears were reserved for frustration or pinnacles of anger. Not emotional reunions.

Reaching up, he carefully pulled back her goggles. After sliding them up against her forehead, he lifted his sleeve to her face. Tugging the material so that it covered his hand, he rubbed it over one cheek and then the other.

“You’re not,” he agreed. Beneath his hand, his sleeve was wet.

Her left cheek was newly marred. A web of scar tissue fanned over her skin. He absently traced a puckered line. It ended well below her chin.

Where she held his shirt, he noticed the grip of her right hand was surprisingly weak. When he looked down, he saw the material of his shirt was pinioned awkwardly between her thumb, ring, and pinky finger. Her index and middle had been reduced to stubs.

Upon noticing his stare, she gave her remaining fingers a quick wiggle. “I came back a little worse for the wear.”

Covering her fingers with his own, Levi focused upon the only part of the sentence for which he had any care. “You came back. How?”

“I survived the fall. Managed to get out of the car before I got too burned.”

Hearing the words leave her mouth made him feel as though he’d swallowed a small pile of rocks. After she’d gone off the cliff, she’d been alive down there. And they’d left her for dead.

Hanji’s fingers squeezed. “Enough of that. If I were you, I would have thought I was dead too.” She continued, tapping her thumb thoughtfully against the back of his hand, “I was lucky. I came across another semi-nomadic tribe. They patched me up in return for my helping with some of their vehicles. While I was there I repaired a Wistvern car left over from our fight. That was three months ago. I’ve been trying to find you ever since.”

“You found us in time to save all of our asses.” He looked back at the others, who’d until that moment, been purposefully occupying themselves with either checking on Connie or looking over their vehicles for damage. As soon as he turned, however, the spell was broken.

Armin was the first to hurtle himself across the sand. He threw his arms around her, wrapping the older woman in a tight hug.

Hanji laughed; it was bright and loud.

Something in Levi hummed at the sound.

Eren was close behind Armin, and was followed by the more reserved Mikasa. Only after everyone had their reunions, did Erwin stroll across the sand. He greeted her with a pleasant nod. Hanji returned the nod and raised him a tight hug. He happily returned it.

After hearing the brief version of Hanji’s story, he gave her a pat on the back, and after reiterating that it was good to have her back, reminded everyone that they must be moving. Precious few hours of daylight remained. And if they managed to make it to the salt flats, the warlord’s men would be unlikely to pursue them.

Getting ready to leave again was a quick affair – until Hanji discovered that Connie had been shot and all but insisted she look him over. It took both Krista and Erwin’s assurances that they had both checked him and had concluded that the bullet missed any vital points, before she could be persuaded to postpone her own check-up for when they made camp that night.

As her patched together car was out of commission, Hanji chose to ride with Levi. To say he was pleased would be an understatement. After finding her suddenly and impossibly back in his life, something in his gut tugged uncomfortably at the thought of her leaving his sight. Some primal part of him feared she would disappear and it would be as though she had never returned to them at all. And since he was loathe to say any of this aloud, he was glad she had chosen to remain in his car with him, so that as of yet, such a vulnerable truth could remain unspoken.

Hanji requested that she drive, since it had been months since she’d driven anything that didn’t accelerate with a perpetual shimmy. Levi had happily agreed. There was no one he trusted more with the vehicle.

As they drove, he alternated between watching the dunes decrease in size before them, eyeing the rearview mirror for signs of pursuit, and watching her drive. She operated the vehicle with a calm confidence. Driving with one hand upon the wheel, she looked perfectly at home.

And as they drove, he watched the upcoming dunes less, and Hanji more. A part of him still couldn’t believe she was here. Alive. 

As if she’d sensed his stare, she glanced to the side and met his stare with a smile. He didn’t return it. It had been a long time since he’d smiled. But he did give her a careful nod. Reaching slowly across the car, he brushed his finger lightly across the back of her hand. This earned another smile, this one warmer than the last.

With the car vibrating smoothly beneath him and the smooth, even sounds of her breaths, Levi tipped his head back and closed his eyes. It was the first dreamless sleep he had in months.

Hours later, they’d made camp and despite the lingering excitement from the day’s events, the travelers were finally beginning to turn in.

Armin had immediately offered to give Hanji back her tent, but she’d been adamantly against it, saying he’d had it for so long, it was his now. When Levi offered to share his small space, she’d agreed without hesitation.

And so, beneath the thin fabric of his tent, with the sounds of the others settling in around them, Levi sat beside her. A single candle, stuck in the sand, lit the canopy in a warm light. The books, which Hanji had gratefully received, remained in their bag, and had been placed within reaching distance. Instead of a book, Hanji had open before her, a pile of roughly bound papers. When she’d pulled it from an inner flap within her shirt, she’d called it a journal.

And now, sitting beside him, she explained. “What happened back then – well, it gave me a good sense of my own mortality. So I’m writing in this every day. About my journey,” she waved, gesturing around them, “our journey, the people that we encounter, and the ways in which they live.” She paused. “And how we live too.”

Paging through the booklet, she found a fresh page. “You don’t mind-?”

He shook his head.

Leaning over the paper, she picked up a splintered pencil. It was an awkward grip. Without her index and middle finger, the pencil had to be carefully balanced between her thumb and ring finger.

He’d seen her write before. Six months ago, she’d routinely filled every spare inch of whatever precious paper she could find, with notes. Now every word was slow, laborious. The pencil shook, unsteady, as she slowly traced letters. The lines she produced were wobbly and the words squished together and sloppy. After five minutes, she’d only finished her second sentence.

It was painful to watch.

Before she could start on a third, Levi plucked the pencil from her hands. “Focus any harder on holding that damn pencil, and you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m getting better at it. It’s just,” she paged through the previous, messy pages, “taking some time.”

He slid the paper out from under her. Lifting it to his lap, he peered down at the page. “What do you want to say?”

Hanji looked from him, to the paper in his lap, and finally, to the pencil in his hand. “You hate writing.”

He shrugged. “It’s just for now. Until you get better at using that hand.”

Hanji nodded, slow. She wiped once at her goggles, and began to speak, “Today I reunited with my people.” Lead scraped against paper as he carefully jotted her words. “But before that, both they and I encountered a particularly virulent-” She paused, squinting down at the page. “No, you spell virulent with a-” She shook her head. “Never mind. Anyway, we encountered a particularly virulent war-driven people.”

As she spoke, her hand settled on his knee. She leaned in, and her body was a warm, welcome pressure against his side.

While one hand traced her words, with his other, he reached up and gently intertwined her fingers with his own. He did so, in part, because he’d learned that this life upon the sands was hard and short. But also, because she was warm, and solid against him, and so _very alive_ , he’d decided he wanted to hold her hand. And so he did.

As she spoke, she leaned further against him. And by the time the candle had lost half and inch and droplets of wax decorated the sand, her eyes had begun to drift closed.

When she spoke, her lips moved against his shoulder. “And so we’ll move forward again tomorrow, we who search for home. I can’t be certain we’ll find such a place. But with us, we carry the tools to create a better world. So against my better judgment, I believe.”

Outside, the dunes upon which they camped were washed out. The night had colored them in shades of blue and pale white. Above, the stars flickered, ever distant.

From their tent, glowed a single, warm light.

* * *

 

_“We who found home, found it first in each other.” - After the Fall: The Second History of the World_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just-quintessentially-me on tumblr :)


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